Chapter 22

Brooks

“The family dinner’s canceled for the evening,” Charlotte’s twin says as she pushes away from the wall. “Instead, you will dine with me.”

“I don’t think so.” I walk away from Imogen, intent on getting my laptop and meeting with Theo again to see if he has any updates.

“You don’t have a choice.”

What is it with these Sinclairs? Turning, I march up to her, not at all surprised to find her security guard only a couple of feet away. “You’re not my queen.”

“But I am Charlotte’s and I have every right to kick your arse out of my palace.”

In some ways it’s weird looking at a woman who is almost identical to the one I love and not feeling a fucking thing except frustration and contempt. There’s no spark of attraction, no surge of desire that makes me want to take her to bed. Where Charlotte’s mouth is usually soft and smiling, her twin’s is hard and puckered, like she’s always tasting lemons.

I can’t blame her. She has an uphill battle becoming the true queen of a country that isn’t quite sure of what to make of the Sinclair siblings. Will they be their parents, or will they actually make their country better?

“You know, I could help your image. Publish a few pieces on the charity work you’ve done, how Sinclair Enterprises brought the home office into the twenty-first century and put fifteen hundred people to work. Readers love a good comeback story.”

“I have no need for your charity.”

“He who controls the media controls the narrative,” I remind her.

“He who prints shit stories about the queen or her family gets sued.”

She doesn’t flinch and neither do I…suddenly, I realize why she doesn’t appeal to me. Imogen and I are almost exactly alike. We’ll do anything short of murder to claw our way to the top and stay there.

Although I’m not so sure she wouldn’t be open to killing someone. Hell, I’ve had a mind to track down the guy who hurt Charlotte.

“I’ll have dinner with you—on one condition. Consider it a royal favor,” I say with a wink.

She rolls her eyes. “You may ask, but I reserve the right to tell you to bugger off.”

“Did Charlotte send that text to me?”

Imogen smashes her lips together, then closes her eyes briefly. “It was me. I wanted to see if you’d bother to come after her, without a baby to tie her to you.”

“Where and what time?” I ask.

“Right now in my private apartments,” she replies. “I’ve not eaten yet.”

“I’m not hungry,” I say.

She turns away. “Not my concern.”

I eye her security guard. “And I thought I had my hands full with her sister.”

With a grim smile, he says, “You have no idea.”

“Loans don’t talk, Devereaux.”

We keep talking anyway. “Loans?”

“The queen of England sent me to guard the Princess.” His gaze travels down Imogen’s back and lands on her ass, where it stays far longer than it should.

“Not my princess.”

Imogen tosses an annoyed look at us over her shoulder. “Will the two of you be this chummy while I eat?”

“Need to have something to do.”

“How about them Cubs?”

“Greatest day in sports history.” I extend my hand and he shakes it. “Brooks Walker, by the way.”

“Luca Devereaux, huge fan of baseball.”

“Knew you weren’t a true Brit.” Imogen stops in front of a set of tall, intricately carved wooden doors. “Lord help me.” She pushes them open with a flourish. “Have a seat, Brooks. Luca, go stand in the corner like a good boy.”

I take that back. We’re not that much alike because I don’t treat my employees like shit.

Luca leans in close to Imogen, whispering in her ear. She turns a dull red. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly, then fixes her gaze on me. “Do forgive me for my obnoxious behavior. I’m rather stressed at the moment.”

Luca goes to her chair, pulling it out for her. “The princess is under pressure to take a husband faster than she would like so that she can be crowned queen.”

“What about Charlotte?”

Imogen smiles tightly. “She is under no pressure to take any husband, at any time.”

“Is that a threat?”

She tilts her head to one side. “Consider it a hope that she will find a man worthy of her.”

Luca takes a dome-covered plate from the serving cart and places it before her. They reach for the dome at the same time, their fingers touching. Imogen pulls back and it almost falls to the table, but Luca grabs it.

I eye them closely, my journalistic Spidey sense spiking. I always knew there was a reason why Peter Parker chose to be a reporter. He had great intuition, but it wasn’t until after he’d gotten bit by a radioactive spider. However, I don’t need superpowers to see that something’s going on between Charlotte’s sister and her bodyguard…or if it hasn’t happened yet, it’s about to go up in flames.

“Will you publish our true birth order?” Imogen asks.

“Depends if it will benefit Charlotte or not.” I sit back in my chair, waiting to hear what she’ll accuse me of.

“You want her to give up the chance to ever become queen should something happen to me?”

Wow. I truly thought she would accuse me of wanting money or a title…or some kind of connection with the royal family. Emphasis on royal. “You’re her twin—you tell me if she ever wants to be queen.”

Her gaze dips to the plate in front of her. “No. Charlotte doesn’t want to be queen. She suffers from anxiety when it comes to public events, from the scrutiny of the press, and Parliament…” The figurative mask that Imogen wears slips, allowing me to get a glimpse of a woman who actually is a lot like her sister, more than she’s probably allowed to be. “I have to share some things with you. Things that can never leave this room.”

“I won’t keep it from Charlotte.”

“That’s good.” She takes a deep breath. “When we were little, our nanny favored me over Charlotte. And…well, she would do things to Char. Things to terrify her, things to make it seem like she couldn’t stand to be around our parents. Like when it was dinner and we were presented to them, Nanny would pinch Char quite hard and she would start to cry. My sister would be sent back to the nursery while I got to stay.

“Not only that, Charlotte is deathly afraid of the dark, so Nanny punished her by making her have time-out in the closet. There are no windows in the nursery closets. Or she’d lock her outside in the garden at night.” Her voice shakes and she swipes at her tears. “I tried to stop it, but Charlotte was only punished more harshly. I don’t know how….She’s so very sweet, Brooks, so very trusting, and sees the good in people when no one else dares.”

I clench my jaw so hard that my back teeth start to grind together.

“You see, each time I demand that Char come to me, it’s my way of getting her out of her…tower. She willingly locks herself in there, you know. Writing her little stories, posting on social media…living life through a periscope when she should be on the open waters. When you crashed our ball, I thought it was to get to me, but when you went to her, I was so bloody thrilled. You noticed the wallflower and I knew, I just knew, that you wouldn’t be able to resist her. You’d fall under her spell and be the man she thought you to be.”

“What happened to your nanny?”

She smiles. “Naturally you want to know that. You’ll be very happy to know that after refusing to come with us to America, she slipped on the stairs and fell to her death. I heard she suffered for hours before she finally succumbed to her injuries.”

“Thank fuck.”

Imogen pushes her chair back and walks to me, sinking to her knees. “As her sister and not her queen, I am begging you to protect her, even if it means taking her away from her family in order to live a normal life. Even if it means that I banish her from my court, make another my heir…whatever it takes for her to be happy.”

Luca steps forward, his gaze hard. “Princess, don’t.”

“You don’t understand, Luca. You weren’t there. No one was,” she cries.

I can’t stand it any longer. Taking Imogen’s hand, I pull her to her feet and then let go. “You have my promise, but I can’t do it without your help.”

“I can petition—”

“Not that. First things first. We have to make sure Davies leaves your family alone. Permanently.”

Luca smiles. “If I may?”

“You can’t murder him.”

“Nothing that merciful. The prime minister violated the royal family’s trust. There has to be a law against that and a punishment,” he says to Imogen. “Think about it. Every bit of the information he gathered was private, not public record. The confession by Beaumont, did he have the legal right to transcribe it? I can only assume he recorded your meeting without your knowledge.”

“We did the same to him,” Imogen says. “He thought he was too clever by far, but Char and I pulled one over on him.”

“Do those recordings still exist?” I ask.

“No, we got rid of them once he resigned. Burned them in our fireplace back at St. Claire.” She smiles at the memory; then the mask returns. “You may go now. I have an emergency session of Parliament to call. Devereaux, make arrangements.”

He pulls out his cellphone.

“What can I do?” Besides save my company, but that’s not their problem. That’s entirely mine.

“Propose to my sister in the most romantic way possible so she’ll say yes, or I’ll ban you from the Isle for life.”

“On it.”

“That means without ordering, commanding, or sexing her up while you do it. We want the PG version.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” I say wryly. “You know, for a queen to be, you’re not half bad.”

“And you’re not the scum-sucking, low-life reporter I thought you were, either.”

“Thanks.”

“Cheers.”

I leave before she can royally dismiss me, heading to Theo’s office for the third time. On my way, I call my brother to get the latest on the court case.

“Brooks, I was just about to call you,” Briggs says. “I have bad news and good news…and fucked-up news”

“What’s the bad?”

“You’re in breach.”

Fuck. “And the good?”

“They’re willing to settle.”

“And the really fucked-up news,” I ask, ducking into an empty room.

“They want you to step down as CEO and leave everything behind, including any properties, vehicles, and the jet. They’ll let you keep your clothes, earnings to date, and membership to The Booth Club as a gesture of goodwill.”

“What in the hell did I do to piss them off?”

“You broke the story on three of their top investors.” Briggs exhales. “They’ve been planning this for a while, and when you violated your contract by getting personally involved with Charlotte…”

“Fucking fine print. I swear to God that wasn’t in there when I signed.”

“Should have had me in your corner.”

I rub my nose, tipping my chin up. “You’re right, I should have.”

“If you need a job, we have—”

“No way in hell I’m moving to work in corporate.”

“The offer stands.”

“Thanks.” Great. I have a baby on the way and less than fifty thousand in savings. Shit, if that. “Do you think Dad will finally let me start withdrawing from our trust?”

“You’d have to have a pretty damn good reason to access money that isn’t ours until we’re forty.”

I might as well tell him. “Charlotte’s pregnant.”

“That’s a damn good reason, you little shit.” He laughs. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Too busy snaking people out of perfectly good contracts?”

“This snake kept you out of jail and made it possible for you to keep whatever you currently have in savings. You can thank me later for that one.”

“No retirement?”

“Nope. That’s to be liquidated. Face it, Brooks, the truth hurts like a motherfucker.”

Yeah, it really does. “Thanks for your help. I need to go.”

“When you get back to the States, I’ll help you move.”

“Your leg is still broken,” I point out.

“I wasn’t planning on physically moving anything. Just supervising.”

I laugh and it feels good to do it, even though I’ve lost everything and might lose Charlotte. “Spoken like a future politician.”

We end our call and I finally, finally arrive at Theo’s office and step inside. “So, thanks for your help, but I’m basically bankrupt and Imogen is calling an emergency meeting with Parliament. I’m going to propose to your sister for the fifth time, and when she says no again, I’ll fly my ass back to the States—probably in coach because I don’t own my fucking jet anymore, either.”

“Sounds brilliant.” He doesn’t look up from his computer. “Be sure to let me know how it goes.”

“It’s going to hell, Theo. That’s where it’s going.”

“Excellent.”

With a frustrated growl, I leave his office, but not before I catch him laughing. At me.

“This entire family is insane.” But not so insane that I won’t attempt to marry into it.